


Rise in Red

by WaffleWarrior



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Archangel Gabriel (Supernatural), Awesome Gabriel (Supernatural), BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), BAMF Gabriel (Supernatural), Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Chuck Shurley is God, Conversations in the Impala (Supernatural), Dean is In Over His Head, Fighting The Darkness (Supernatural), Fix-It, Gabriel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Gen, POV Gabriel, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Gabriel, Sam Winchester is So Done, Sleeping in the Impala (Supernatural), Supernatural Elements, The Impala (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 07:22:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19043836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaffleWarrior/pseuds/WaffleWarrior
Summary: Alternate plot to Season 11 of Supernatural.The Darkness attacks the sun out of fury and revenge, leaving her 'shadows' as a present for all living beings to suffer unto. With all the Gabriel action because we love Gabriel. :)The first chapter starts with a poem, so don't be alarmed. No, this isn't a poetry fic, I swear.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm debating on writing more. I have the plot set out, but I have a lot of other Supernatural works I could continue writing. Comment if you think I should!

>   
>  _In the days before the humans roamed,_  
>  _And the Earth was rather young,_  
>  _A quartet of His divine angels,_  
>  _And a Father foreign to tongue,_
> 
> _His anger births a lock and key,_  
>  _Worn by His brightest son,_  
>  _But Her corruption stains all light,_  
>  _And He is driven to run,_
> 
> _A struggle against Creation's darkest sister,_  
>  _Who thrashed and howled in Light's bonds,_  
>  _She commands Her final crumb of strength,_  
>  _Satisfied when Her will responds,_
> 
> _She summons Her lightless creatures,_  
>  _Naming them as our shadows and our plight,_  
>  _Banished to Earth amongst His cherished,_  
>  _To hinder His guidance and shield His light,_
> 
> _A promise that could only be of lies,_  
>  _Her destructive return of one to expect,_  
>  _A vow to crush all creation born in His light,_  
>  _And pledge Her presence to taint and infect,_
> 
> _A day where the Darkness would overthrow,_  
>  _And destined shadows creep over His sun,_  
>  _So all would forget His light and warmth,_  
>  _His glory days destined to be done,_
> 
> _With only artificial light to remember Him,_  
>  _And only Hell to warm the Earth,_  
>  _Only Heaven's afterglow to guide the angels,_  
>  _After Amara's inevitable rebirth,_
> 
> _Two wayward brothers and a fallen angel,_  
>  _Following His path without His light,_  
>  _To correct the wreckage of another,_  
>  _And take on the burden of His fight,_
> 
> _God sends His youngest son,_  
>  _A trickster, a messenger, a pagan god,_  
>  _To aid their fruitless means of goodwill,_  
>  _And to advise them when it's flawed,_
> 
> _The end is not 'set in stone',_  
>  _As a Winchester might have said,_  
>  _And the Darkness can be defeated,_  
>  _So the sun may rise in red._  
> 

### Chapter 1

The wisp of paper to a playful wind is the only sound present until an exasperated murmur is expelled as the note is skimmed over. "Really, Dad? Those three bozos?"

There's a groan and click of muscles realigning, damaged from a tumble toward the surface of the Earth at breakneck speeds. Thankfully, this neck is hard to break. Honey eyes scroll over the skid marks and broken terrain that are proven scars of the speeds he'd been traveling. He crawls out of his crater, scoffing, “Like, seriously. You couldn’t choose any other iconic trios? Personally, I wouldn’t mind the Kardashians. Eye candy is still candy.”

He spreads his wings, plumes of feathers broadening dozens of feet from his side, and suddenly, he's keeled over with a scream of his true voice erupting across the field. Soil thunders and dust fluffs through the dry air. Reddened lightning slashes at the ground ominously. He falls to his knees, panting as the flood of agony in his shoulder blades ease.

“Father, please,” he croaks. It's a plea, desperate for relief and reassurance, but there's nothing but the stupid whisper of flimsy paper.

His nails dig into the loosely tilled dirt, fisting his hand in an effort to evade the pain grinding within his grace. Being resuscitated from the dead, he assumed, had likely depleted his power. He wouldn't last against a _demon_. The exertion he required just to stand on his wobbly legs was astounding: he was weaker than a newborn foul.

And, _holy_ —

His knees almost gave out as his muscles quivered underneath him like Jello, spasming as he took in the sight before him. Towering worms of twirling _black_ spat out of the ground in a perimeter around the field, plundering toward a center. They gathered into a mammoth wave of pulsing darkness, devouring as it grew.

An aggravated purr of an engine woke him from his stupor, and he shot a questioning gaze toward the source. He blinked twice, dumbfounded. A Chevy Impala was plowing through the loose dirt like an angry cow, bellowing and bawling as it increased speed and fled from the dome of shadows. Suddenly, Dad’s cryptic poem made a _load_ more sense. “Aunt _Amara_? Aw Dad, what did those balloon-heads, _do_?”

He summons his wings upward, and determinedly flies, suffering the enveloping pain that paralyzes him as he dives into the racing vehicle. There's a loud curse and the car jerks with another wail of the engine, indicating his arrival had been very unexpected, but it continues to plunge ahead nonetheless.  
_“Gabriel?!”_

He beckons enough energy to speak. "Better believe it." He's hacking, unpleasantly and coarsely, but he can't seem to relieve the ache in his lungs. He's left wheezing like some measley human.

Sam hesitantly places a hand on his shoulder from his passenger seat in an effort to ground him. Gabriel’s ashamed to find it comforting.

Dean's less than pleased. “How are you _alive_ , and why do you only show up _now_?! Didn’t Lucifer kill you?! Really could have used you before!”

Considering he can't really _speak_ , he forks over Dad’s wrinkly note he's been clutching onto, grains of dirt trailing off the harsh folds. Sam studies the note like it's written in Enochian, which it's not, as a puzzled look crosses his face. “What is this?”

Gabriel rolls his eyes, rasping, “Dad decided I'm… more useful… alive. You idiots released... the Darkness.” His voice is cracking in all the wrong places as he puffs, literally out of breath. Does his vessel have asthma or something? He'd never really bothered to wonder before. His overconfident self had likely blinded him from preventing these sort of things. If he lives through this, he's going to do some serious self-examination and diagnosis because he won't be caught dead needing an inhaler.

Sam winces at Gabriel's hoarse response, but Dean snarks back in mild disgust before he can say anything. “Can't you just snap up a cough drop or something? Jesus.”

“If I could… I wouldn't be... _whee~zing_.” He clutches his throat, his quips physically hurting him. “My grace is…” he flaps a hand as a aimless gesture, “not currently… _present— ugh—_ ” He's almost certain his lungs are personally attacking him now.

He curls into himself, choking on cramping spasms in his lungs. There's an indescribable pressure that he's beginning to recognize, and it sends a spike of dread in his gut. Crap. “It's the… Darkness. Attacking the... grace in... in the area. Ugh— ho-ho, you guys— ugh—” He's nearly in tears, half laughing in spite of it; because laughter's forever been his signature coping mechanism. “Thank Dad... I'm not at... full power. I'd be in… _misery—_ ” How ironic that his grace depletion was actually saving him some agony right now.

He’s squeezing the leather and curling his toes, when a distracting thought smacks him straight in the nose. _Aww, that rhymed. There you go, Dad. See? I can be poetic too._ “Ah, man. This isn't… what giving birth… feels like… is it?” Gabriel's beginning to respect Virgin Mary.

“How would _we_ know?!” Dean shouts, high-pitched and incredulous, half in irritance, half just to be heard over the snarls of his motor and the wrath of the Darkness-induced storm. “Do we look like chicks to you?!”

Gabriel shrugs stiffly, “Sam's kinda… got the hair.” An unsteady smirk climbs his face briefly. He pauses, holding his breath as if it were a just hiccup and not a stabbing pain at the core of his grace. “Floor it,” he bites out, nearly nauseous. He can sense the Darkness nearing.

Dean frowns. “As if I'm not already—”

“Floor it!” Gabriel barks. _If you don't want an archangel puking all over your precious car, go._ If he can puke. He's never tested that before. Never really wanted to.

“I don't wanna push her—!” And Dean's worried about the car. Of course he is. There's a literal cloud of _doom_ at his heels and he's worried about the car's _mileage_.

Dad, if he makes it out alive, he will personally whack some sense into them.

Sam, fortunately, is more sensible. “Dean!” Sam snaps, “Just go!” _Good Sasquatch_.

Dean growls, slamming his foot on the pedal.

Gabriel, as weak as he is, still has a flicker of grace, tucked away and licking its grievous wounds. He pours his reserves into powering the car because if he doesn't give it a boost, his revival was for nothing. Except the speed isn't enough, and a descending black smoke is inches from swallowing the vehicle. _Well, that was brief. So long, world. Again. So long Father._

However, something else passes Gabriel's radar. A scatter of warmth and faint light is wrapping around the car —thin, like tissue paper— but present and encouraging. This is his Father's _grace_. 

And, ruining Gabriel's brief amazement that his Father is _personally protecting them_ , he realizes it's also protecting the Impala. Apparently Dean's creepy love for his vehicle is pitied by God himself. Or understood. What’s the saying— like Father like son? Sort of. Technically. Gabriel doesn't really know anymore.

All he knows is that the Darkness has totally surrounded the vehicle, yet has failed to penetrate it and exterminate them all. So… so far so good. Dean and Sam waste their time fainting, but Gabriel supposes there _is_ an intense force as the car is literally whipped about to break their fortunate, last-minute God-shield. He can't exactly blame them for passing out under an immense force no human body is built for, but he also can't help commenting in their moment of weakness though. Perhaps... he is a coward. “For all the crap you guys do, you two sure are fragile.”

In moment's doubt, Gabriel checks if they're alive with a thread of his exploring grace. Their heartbeat is pretty regular, as is their breathing, and both are out cold. Thoughtfully, he reigns them into their seats with a stray wisp of grace, which isn't a strenuous task, considering he has their seatbelts on his side. It would be a pity if they got concussions from slamming their heads into the ceiling.

_No. Noo. I see where you're going with those googly eyes, readers. Stop it. It's not like I’m worried, no, I don’t worry. Nor do I care about the pair of knuckleheads. It's just that reviving lumberjack hunters isn't exactly on my bucket list. Especially with this drain of energy. So put away your smirks and pouty faces. I don’t care about those freaks._

The strands of black seem to retreat, curling and hissing like wiggly eels as they pull back, impatient and thankfully uninterested in wasting time. Gabriel expects sunshine to peek through the crevices, but there’s… hardly _anything_. As if noon has shifted into an evening sunset in five minutes.

He wriggles the door handle, but it doesn't budge. His Father's grace continues to weave and flow over the car's chromium, calmly denying his request to leave. In short, nothing can get in or out of the Impala until God decides they are safe. Great.

Gabriel smashes his face against the window trying to get a look at the sky, and he softly inhales at the staggering view. _Oh my Dad._

Shadows creep like curious moths over the sun, slowly surrounding it like a surreal, uneven eclipse. Dark mist is still exiting the atmosphere, leaving a trail of ashy hues in its wake. Aunt Amara is literally devouring the _sun_.

“Don't smear the glass.”

With that, Gabriel sighs sharply. “You've had _blood and bullets_ showered onto this Dad-forsaken car and you care about smudges? I'd sort your priorities right now.” Gabriel shoots a look to Dean, who is rubbing his face groggily. “Look out the window.”

Dean makes no move to listen. “Why?”

Gabriel internally rolls his eyes, frustration climbing. _Dad, so help me._ “It was noon. Was the sun setting five minutes ago?”

Dean crosses his arms, sneering. “How would you know what time it was? You were just brought back, yeah?”

Gabriel's fighting not to strangle him. “Not everything is about the human concept of time. If you'd just _think_ about it, you'd realize I _probably_ just looked up and saw that the sun was directly above my head. Do you _ever_ use your brain? _Look out the window._ ”

Dean huffs, clearly annoyed he'd lost the argument. He begins to jiggle the door handle, stiffening in alarm when it doesn't budge.

Ohhh~ does Dean have a _grudge_ against Gabriel? Likely a petty one, no doubt. Sure, he did kill Dean a couple hundred times that one day, but he _brought him back_. Come on, at least Gabriel didn't make him _remember_ it. That was Sam's lesson, not his.

Or is this about TV-Land? Gabriel has to admit he had been eager with that particular party trick. Throwing the pair of boneheads into a herpes commercial had certainly been a decent, truly necessary giggle. He really should have put that into public television. Can you imagine people _recognizing_ them for that? Oh Dad, Gabriel would pay to watch that.

But honestly, that wasn't much of a traumatic day either.

What's more, Gabriel must include that he had _died_ for them in the end. Taking a hit from Lucifer is a major deal. Though Gabriel does love to romanticize things. He's not exceptionally great with ‘taking blame’. Actually, he’s not very good with fault by any means. He'd rather be defensive about his actions.

Back to the sky, Dean seems to finally understand the gravity of their predicament. 

“Oh.”

Gabriel snorts. “Yeah, ‘oh’. What have you two idiots done?” He lectures. Gabriel is confident Dad brought him back partially to scold their moronic heroism. They’re stuck in the car anyway. Usually, they can solve their messes, but this is much bigger than them. This is bigger than _God_. And so help him, he will not let them wiggle their way out of a reprimanding. They do that often enough.

To his surprise, Dean actually winces. “A whole lot of crap I wish I could undo.”

Gabriel leans into his seat. “Too late for that. Seriously though. How did you manage this? I can't even begin to imagine. And I'm _creative._ ”

Dean furrows his eyebrows. “It was a really friggin’ terrible domino effect.”


	2. Chapter 2

### Chapter 2

“After you died, we, uh, watched your video.” Dean clears his throat, uncomfortable.

Gabriel sends a sly grin. “The whole thing?”

Dean glares from the driver seat. “No.”

“Pity.”

Dean rolls his eyes, “We managed to get the rings like you said. And… well… Sam said yes—”

 _“What?!”_ Gabriel gapes at him like a fish, tensing. “What do you mean he said yes?!” He’s flabbergasted. “Woah, woah, woah, did the apocalypse happen? No, that's— did I die for _nothing?_ ” 

“Hey, hey, no! No, the apocalypse didn't— sort of— what’d you think we were going to do? Bribe Lucifer? Lure him in? _Trick_ him? You of all people should know that tricking Lucifer is impossible, and we don't even have angel mojo.”

“I just… how on God's green earth did Sam— how the—”

“Would you listen to me for five minutes? It's messy story okay? Sam said yes to Lucifer. Michael took Adam as his vessel. He's... our half brother that we had no idea existed. Uh… actually… he's still in Hell. Unless… Death freed him too. I’m hoping the latter.” He looks to his lap in regret, a thick shadow covering his face as the sun weakens further. “I followed them; Lucifer beat me to a pulp, combusted Cas with a snap, and somehow Sam managed to gain control. He… he threw himself in the Cage. Managed to pull Michael with him.” He sends a nervous glance to a currently unconscious Sam, empathetic.

Gabriel raises an alarmed eyebrow. His tone displays total seriousness, however, snapping, “How long?”

Dean's face softens, glancing again at Sam who still has yet to stir. “A year and a half... on Earth.”

Gabriel pales visibly, ashen and grey, rubbing at his scalp as if to scratch away his imaginative visions of how this actually went without Dean tiptoeing over agonizing moments. “How?”

“Cas was brought back by God. Apparently, afterward he managed to get Sam's body, but never grabbed the soul—”

“But Sam _has_ a soul. He has a… it's right there.” Gabriel can see it, a faint glow in Sam's unconscious core. Now that it is under scrutiny, however, he could see it is devastatingly broken. Gabriel went deadly still. _Oh, Sam._

“Yeah. We figured, once Sammy began to show _zero empathy_ toward anything, he was missing something. He acted pretty convincing in the beginning, but once we found out, he was seriously messed up. Borderline sociopathic murderer. No, I take it back, he was a psychopath. It was… it was really... Sam's always empathetic, you know? That’s his _thing_. So it was tough seein’ him like that. I had to be the nice one and that was just... weird. Uh, but we got it back, his soul.”

Gabriel breathes deeply. Sam, ‘the boy with the demon blood’, in a confined space with two livid archangels? Very bad mix. And Dean must already have an idea of how fast time spins in the pit. To Gabriel’s brief calculations, Sam had suffered torture for roughly two centuries. He shudders and manages to reply through the grit of his teeth, “I missed a few years, haven’t I?”

Dean nods solemnly. “We managed to get Death to save Sam’s soul from the Cage. He put a wall up in Sam’s mind to protect him from the memories, but, um, then Cas started a civil war in Heaven. Raphael wanted to start the apocalypse again, and Cas became desperate. To give you an idea, he unsank and resank the Titanic, teamed with Crowley to find Purgatory, devoured a bunch of souls, went nuts with power and declared himself the new God, broke Sam’s wall… and eventually exploded at the pressure of the souls. We were left to deal with the Leviathans that had been occupying him.”

Gabriel is not liking this summary. Leviathans devoured all— the reason Dad had locked them up to begin with. 

Dean taps at his steering wheel, anxious as he recalled memories he had buried. “God ended up bringing Cas back again. We found him, and he managed to absorb the damage Sam had been left with. Sam was dying, hallucinating... couldn't sleep. Castiel went crazy for a while, in a mental hospital, but he knocked out of it. We killed Dick Roman, the major Leviathan that was planning to domesticate humans for food. All the Levies exploded... and Cas and I wound up in Purgatory for a year. Oh, and uh, Sam hit a dog.”

Gabriel blinked. “How does this lead to the Darkness?”

“Getting there,” Dean sighs. “Kevin Tran, he’s… he's a—”

“Prophet.”

Dean shakes his head. “I forgot you guys can do that. He found the demon tablet. He deciphered it and we found out there’s a way to close the gates of Hell.”

Gabriel groans, “Oh my Dad.” His tone is livid. “Tell me you didn’t do it. Tell me Sam didn't do it. Those trials are not meant for humans! Especially not humans with demon blood! You really thought casting demons to Hell wouldn't impact 'the boy with the demon blood'?!”

“I can hear you two, you know.”

Both Dean and Gabriel flash a startled look to Sam, who watches them tiredly.  
“You're awake.” Dean’s face contorts visibly, anguish and guilt bleeding into his features. “I thought I should let him know what he's missed. I know… I know this isn't my story to tell, but I—”

Sam nods gently. “It's alright.” His expression is open and understanding but overall weighed in heavy, past memories. “Can I tell it, though?”

From there, Sam somberly retells the nightmare of their lives. The archangel hardly stayed quiet, outbursting at the worst events in the story.

“ _Metatron?! That_ scrawny scribe? I thought he'd skipped town along time ago. Oh, Dad, he made all of Heaven fall?

“Idiots. You two are absolute—

“Gadreel?! Sheesh! He’s supposed to be locked away! Sam, how many times have you been possessed?

“I cannot believe—”

But the worst is when they arrived to the story where Dean had attained the poisonous mark that had started it all. Sam brakes off from his sentence, pausing, hesitating, unsure how to tell Gabriel without putting Dean at risk of being strangled to death.

He bites his lip, contemplating. “Dean didn't know the risks…”

Dean looks offended. “Hey, you were a part of this too!”

Sam replies calmly, “I never asked you to—”

“It was necessary!” Dean defends.

“No!” Sam roars, “It wasn't! I never asked you to get the Mark, Dean!”

There's a full thirty seconds of quiet. Sam's heaving his breathes, Dean's holding his, and Gabriel isn't even breathing. Not that he.needs to breathe, he can of course, but it takes him half a minute of malfunctioning to actually process what he had just heard.

What did good intentions do for anyone? No good, Dean would repeat, no good. No good for anyone. "I know, Sam." He whispers miserably, "I know." Another thirty seconds pass, and the rage inside of him builds into a blind violence. In a swift motion, Dean punches at the steering wheel. The horn blares, stuck. The jarring noise erupts across the field, and Dean still doesn't feel better.

Gabriel takes a full minute to respond. "Why?" Is his calm question.

Dean looks back. "What?"

"Why?" He asks again. "What was your reason?"

Dean blinks. "Abaddon. We had no archangels any longer, and God obviously didn't care. So we tried to find something that would help. But I'm pretty sure we just did more harm." Dean watches as the purple skies darken further, revealing stars. Without the moon to reflect the sun's light, night would be lightless. "I think I prefer Abaddon over The Darkness."

Gabriel can't find it in him to be angry. He can't. He's tried, but these two idiots only want to help. That's all they've ever wanted. And even though they tend to screw up literally everything they touch, they at least try. Humans try. That's what Gabriel fought for, wasn't it? "Well," Gabriel says, almost lightened in his love for humanity (at a very inappropriate time, he might add), "I'd take back your God comment. He definitely cares."

"...what?"

"Let's just say that if he hadn't just intervened right there, there we wouldn't exist."

Dean stares, almost angrily. "You mean he intervened _now?_ We suffered for years at the hands of the apocalypse, heaven falling, Leviathans, the Mark, and he only swoops in _now?_ "

Gabriel waves a hand at the sky, like he's greeting an old acquaintance. "Let me introduce you to my Aunt Amara. Also known as the Darkness, she was locked away to protect all God's creations from being devoured. Currently, she's hurling herself into space with a plan to eat the sun. Doing so, she will end all human, creature, and plant life. Of course, she hasn't done so without leaving presents.

"She left us with shadows. Not your little buddy that follows you, but evil, unholy shadows that eat almost as much as Amara does. Hardly enough to tickle an archangel like me, but for you humans, this is going to get ugly. We're going to slowly watch the human population die off, go extinct. She's bad news, boys. And they don't discriminate. They will devour ghosts, demons, vamps, werewolves, ghouls, anything. If it's moving, it's already in the sucker's mouth."

Dean watches Gabriel, already calculating. “How do we kill them?”

There’s that blasted humanity that kills off any hate in Gabriel. That willingness to do anything for the rest of the world. The fight in a human’s soul is incredible to him.

“We kill them with light.”


End file.
